


For the love of Jai, a very, very serious crack-fic

by singingpeople



Category: Divergent - All Media Types, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth, Jack Reacher (Movies), Suicide Squad (2016), Terminator: Genesis
Genre: Crack Fic, F/M, Funny, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 11:50:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12581272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingpeople/pseuds/singingpeople
Summary: For the love of Jai, a very, very serious crack-fic (seriously, it´ serious)A little treat for Halloween! Inspired by a post you can find on my tumblr,  inspired, emotionally supported and edited by my one and only muse beautifulramblingbrains, whose name is just coincidently sounds almost like our protagonist here. (A coincidence, nothing more. You hear me?) Have a spooky Halloween and fun with this 25 page-long monster. (Yeah, I´m that insane.)Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own, depraved brain that came up with this shit. And Janie. Janie´s mine.Now I´m off to do another Nanowrimo… yay.. :D





	For the love of Jai, a very, very serious crack-fic

 

Our protagonist, Janie, wished for a man. He should be strong enough to chop the firewood and brave enough to kill all the spiders, precise enough to hit his target even though it was over five meters away which would make him the king at playing darts in the local bar. He should also be fun, someone you can steal horses with, who wasn't afraid of the law but sensible nonetheless. After all, she wanted someone she could spend a nice evening on the sofa when the snow was falling outside, the crackling fire warming the room while they drank wine from sophisticated glasses.

Yes, Janie wished upon a star that she would be graced with such a man. But little did she know that instead of the one she desired, she’d get four, the epitomes of her wish. Didn’t they always say: be careful what you wish for….

* * *

 

 

It had been raining all day long in a faraway province in the middle of England, puddles forming on the walkway between the rural farmhouse and the barn that once upon a time housed livestock but had been converted into a mere wood storage. Like most houses in the area, it was made from withered brown brick stones that had withstood the element for decades without giving way, the walls covered by Ivy slowly winding itself into the crevices. Without a doubt, it made the small farm appear as something out of a fairytale but every few years the damage it caused had to be fixed, which wasn’t cheap, especially for a young woman living all on her own, if you didn’t count her three cats and the dog, her loyal companions.

The young woman in question, whose name was Janie, a poor variation of the name Jenny (god knows what her parents were up to when they decided to name her _that_ ), was sprinting through the rain towards the front door, having retrieved a stack of firewood from the wooden barn to get the chimney started. Being the start of autumn, temperatures had dropped significantly and she was freezing all alone in her bed. She had prepared herself to get wet and she made a mad dash towards the house, the wellies on her feet splashing water from the puddles up and onto her pants, staining them with mud.

Bursting through the door she cursed out a low _‘merde’_   - because it sounded better, as a cold drop of water ran down her spine and let the full basket drop, not taking into account that her foot was right beneath it. A string of curses left her potty mouth like a sailor, and she hobbled around on one leg, the other one clutched in hands. Jumping around, her shoulder met the wall and Janie let herself sink down, her foot pulsing painfully. It wasn’t the first time she wished that she had a strong companion that would have no problems chopping wood, stacking it in the barn or carry it into the house where he´d start a cozy fire, while for her it was always a matter of luck if the damn thing would even start and a matter of time until the chimney was clogged again. Brushing the wet strand of hair from her face, she let out a loud sigh before getting up and going to work, shooing her mongrel dog gently away as she tried to smother her face with love.

 

It took her thirty minutes and four tries to get it going so when she was finally cozy on her couch, a nice cup of tea by her side and her favorite book in hand (like for any brit that thought they were the cat´s whiskers, it, of course, was Pride and Prejudice, just like her favorite movie, the one from 2005 with the handflex™, not the one with Collin Firth) it was not long before she fell asleep. Just seconds from drifting off, mind foggy, she sent a wish upon the heavens – that they´d grant her a partner, one of those fictional men she adored that much.

 

Unbeknownst to her, just as she finished that thought, that heartfelt desire, the hand of the clock clicked into place at ten past ten on the tenth October, putting a process in motion that would completely and undoubtedly turn her whole life upside down.

* * *

 

The faraway tolling of the church bells in the village announcing the arrival of midnight stayed unheard to Janie but the deafening thunder, followed by a burst of lightning that made night day for a few long seconds, leaving an after-image burned into one's cornea. Tumbling from her position, heart beating fast, Janie looked around wildly before holding a hand against her chest, trying to calm herself down.

But the dulled thumping, followed by the dog barking had the anxiety spiking in her veins. It sounded like something in the barn had fallen over and she feared that the lightning had struck it, maybe even igniting a fire.

There was no one around but her and no chance for her to avoid going out by herself to take a look.

Cell phone clutched in hand, the dog by her side, she shrugged on her jacket and the wellies, pushing open the door of her utility room.

 

It had stopped raining, puddles building on the walkway that Janie tried to avoid on her way to the barn that was veiled by large pines, separating different parts of the old homestead. The barn was a little to the side and she was almost there when she heard a crash from inside as if something had kicked a stack of wood loose, sending it tumbling to the ground. Janie froze while the dog started barking violently, fur standing up.

 

She listened closely, on alert for a few moments but when nothing was heard she continued, slowly inching closer to the wooden door. Ear pressed to the rough surface, Janie hesitated but ultimately decided to go in there. Most likely it was just another rat, or maybe a cat that was searching for a secure place to give birth in.

The light on her phone turned on, she pushed the door open and slowly made her way inside, the small circle of light swaying over piles of wood, over to the section where she had stored the outdoor furniture for the winter. From the corner of her eye she thought to see a shadow whizzing by but when she turned around nothing was there. Walking further into the barn, she shone the light into the cracks, searching for the unfortunate animal when suddenly the door slammed shut.

 

Straightening up, she swayed the light around widely, searching for the trigger – the reason why it fell shut. Maybe it was the wind? Yes, of course. What else?

 Heart beating out of her chest, Janie felt a shiver running down her back and suddenly she knew – she just knew that someone was watching her.

With long steps, she made her way out the door, to where her dog was, where she could call the police, or maybe that one man that always bothered her for a date. He'd be more than happy to come here and take a look.

And if there was something hiding in the barn… Well, it wouldn't be her that would get murdered... Just saying.

 

She heard a twig snapping right behind her but before she could react, the phone was knocked from her hand and she was grabbed from behind, pulled into a sturdy chest. Her scream of terror was muted by the hand laying over her mouth and pinching her nose shut, making it impossible for her to breathe. Struggling in earnest, she kicked behind her, hoping to get free from her attacker, but it was to no avail.

He was too strong. Too fast and cunning for her to get out of his choke-hold. But she couldn´t give up, not like that. Not now.

She couldn't die as a twenty-six-year-old who´s biggest accomplishment in life had been the graduation of college. Janie wanted to fall in love, to marry and have a child. Or three.

Then, when her life would turn mediocre in her mid-thirties, after her third mid-life crisis (since she had no idea which part of her life was the middle, she decided to have an ongoing crisis) she would get a divorce, bid that no-good-cheating-son-of-a-bitch goodbye and live off child support somewhere in the Caribbean Sea. So much the theory.

But all that and more was impossible if she died by the hands of a guy that thought shushing someone while simultaneously choking them was a good idea.

What an asshole.

 

Through the haze of her oxygen-deprived brain, Janie registered another movement right before the man was ripped off of her and she fell to her knees, heaving violently for air. In the same moment, someone turned on the light, like Janie should have done even before setting foot into the barn.

How silly.

Attempted murders are a lot harder in bright light. All those horror movies and she was cast as the first kill after swearing oath she never would be.

She was still crawling away from whoever it was, hoping to get to the door but she stopped short when a sturdy pair of black boots came into her line of vision. Raising her gaze slowly, she took in the military boots, over the padded black pants and the vest, to the crossed, heavily tattooed arms. From there, she studied up to the neck that was adorned by thick black bars until she finally reached his face. Her savior was definitely handsome, in a dark dangerous way. The eye-brow piercing screamed rebel, the studs in his ears though - wannabe drug dealer – or maybe one of those gangsta rappers you would find all over town nowadays.

Still, Janie couldn't help but drool a little. It was a sweet sight to die to.

He was just how she liked her guys to be; a little buff, a little hairy, but still neat, his hair styled in a way that just told her he used up at least one tube of hair gel every month. He was devilishly handsome – and the sly smile tugging up the corner of his lips told her he knew it to. Or knew that she knew. Did he know she knew that he knew?

Who knows.

 

Before she could admire him longer, she was flipped onto her back and came to face her assailant for the first time – and almost fainted. He looked just the same as the other guy, minus the military clothing and the tatts and piercings, but there was no doubt those two must be twins.

Shaved hair, a murderous glint in his eyes that promised pain to anyone and everyone that dared cross him - or just basically _anything_ that crossed his path, Janie didn’t know who she should be more afraid of. But when his hand came closer, the intention clear, she knew. It was this one. He was absolutely, murderously insane.

She felt her stomach drop when he squatted down beside her, his mouth opening wide in a teeth-displaying grin. Her eyes went wide.

 

“Stop that!” The heavily tattooed man stepped in and shoved his doppelganger away just to push some sort of device into her face that he had just pulled from his pocket. “We can´t kill her without testing her first. Gotta make sure she's not one of them.”

 

“Kill me?” Janie squeaked, shuffling away from them until her back was pressed up against an old beam. “Hell no! You can't kill me! I still have cake in the fridge that I didn't eat earlier because of my calorie count! You can't kill me before I had my slice of cake!”

 

The tatted one only rolled his eyes, coming closer with his device until he was right in front of her. With finality, he pushed a button. It started buzzing, three metal arms appearing along with something akin to a hologram. But before it could emerge it was knocked out of his hand from what looked like a giant flying stick that flew in a wide curve and back to where it came from. Standing on top of a six foot four high pile of wood, a man plucked it right from the air and Janie started to think she must be going insane because he looked like the homeless version of the other two. His clothes tattered, a beard that didn't really deflect one´s attention from his black eye, in his hand a fucking _boomerang_.

_What the bloody hell?_

 

"Fuck! That was our only prototype!" The tattooed man snarled, picking up the shattered piece of metal. Another crack was heard when his hand tightened around the handle, eyes narrowing dangerously in on the culprit. "Now I have no way of knowing if she's Divergent! Jeanine´s going to kill me, you incompetent fool!"

 

“Keep ya socks on.” Janie shrunk back, willing herself to wake up from his absurd dream when the heavily bearded one wearing a… trench coat, scrunched up his face and scratched his head a little lost. “I thought that was one of these things that make ma head explode, ya know? ...My bad.”

                                                                          

“My socks? My socks are on my fucking feet but my fucking screener is broken, you… what the fuck even are you anyway?!” Throwing his arm back, he hurled it towards the homeless version of himself who just barely managed to dodge it. They would have bickered on if not for a movement capturing their attention.

 

“ _What is this?_ ” Another shadow emerged and Jeanie almost lost it, before she resigned with a heavy sigh when he stepped into the light. It´s was _another one_ with the same features, the only difference that he was dressed in scrubs and his hair a little longer than the guy who had tried to kill her. His face was serious, almost fearful when he grabbed the phone from the ground, turning it in his hand.

“Skynet… Skynet…”

Jeez, he had a real case of the jitterbugs.

 

Suddenly, without warning, he threw his arm back and slammed it against the wall where it shattered into pieces. Janie jumped, eyes growing wide when she realized what he just did. Everyone stopped to stare at him.

“That was my phone!”

 

“Really, bud? Are you bonkers?” The scruffy one that was perched on a pile of wood like a predator ready to jump, shook his head.

 

The Skynet looney didn't listen, an almost crazed expression taking over his face. He raked his hands through his hair, tugging harshly. Walking up and down, he mumbled to himself while everyone´s eyes were trained on him. Leaning forwards, Janie tried to catch it.

 

“It's here… It's seen me… How do I… What about Sar- OH, SARAH!” He stopped, eyes wide looking right at her.

 

“My name´is Janie…” Pointing at herself, she started to ask herself if her drink earlier had really just been _tea_. Maybe she had swallowed hallucinogens… or maybe she was going off the rails, _bonkers_ like the scruffy one had so fittingly pointed out.

Stopping to stare at her, he stuttered.

“I… I don´t… SKYNET!”

 

“Alright.” Crossing his arms, Mr. tattoo shook his head in exasperation. “This one's _clearly_ broken. But I could have told you that judging from the haircut alone… Seriously, man. Ever heard of hair gel? Even bush-boy over there is ahead of your rank.”

 

Scrunching up his eyebrows, the two of them stared at each other. “Skynet has taken over the whole world. How on earth am I supposed to get hair gel? I need mechanical parts... to build my time machine!”

 

"Well, that proves it, an absolute nutjob." Tatt's crossed his arms, scoffing to the others around him. "I'm supposed to be searching for Divergents and kicking Four´s ass, but you don't hear me whimpering over some time machine, do you?"

 

“Four? How are ya supposed ta kick a number?” The scruffy one questioned from his alleviated place.

 

“It´s his name.” He grumbled, flexing his jaw.

 

“Really?” Piped in the other one that had been awfully quiet if you didn’t count the attempted murder. His smirk was shiver-inducing. “What happened? One through three were taken?”

 

Slowly, the corners of the tattooed one's lips were rising until he wore an identical smirk. There was no doubt that these two must be brother´s; clones, or something like that. Janie was frighteningly overwhelmed, all she could do was stare from one to the other.

Before they could continue to talk about Skynet's, numbers, or for god´s sake, _boomerangs_ , she stepped forward. With no real difference between the four of them, she would first have to know how to address them before _kindly_ asking them to leave her barn.

 

“So,” She stepped in when the tattooed one opened his mouth. “It is really nice here, in the barn... after midnight... in October... but don't you think we should… wrap this up, yes?” When she got affirmative nods, she gave them a tense smile that was more of a grimace. “Great… so we have a Skynet, a boomerang, a mass-murderer and…” She turned to the tattooed one and stared at him expectantly. He looked like a biker, or one of those strange guy´s that were in gangs, tattoos and all.

 

“A Leader,” he called himself.

 

"And a leader. Great. Fantastic" Walking backward, she inconspicuously made her way towards the door, gripping the handle. "Well, it was nice meeting y´all but I really have to –"

Turning, she came to face a sturdy chest and stumbled backward, away from those murderous eyes. The guy had already tried to kill her and once was enough for the day.

 

“Charlie,” he spoke, voice dark. “My name´s Charlie and I´m a construction worker for a German company. That´s what I do. All that I do.”

 

“That´s… nice,” Janie squeaked, feeling more than slightly threatened.

 

Walking backward, she stumbled into another _sturdy_ chest. Whirling around, she came to face the leader guy cocking his head at her. “You were going somewhere?”

 

"Yeah…" she spluttered. "I have work in the morning, so… you know, the early bird catches the worm!" She swung her arm enthusiastically with the saying, trying to keep it cheerful.

 

“Early bird?...Great. Whatever. Since we are here with no way of getting back to the city… or wherever the hell they came from, it would be nice of you to show us our sleeping accommodations.”

 

Janie´s eyes widened. “Sleep – you want to sleep here?!”

 

"´ course, sweetheart." The boomerang guy grinned, jumping off the pile. He landed with a grace she wouldn't have expected from him. "I spent the last three years in a shithol´ before they shipped ma to Arkham. I would _kill_ for a burger.”

 

Not liking his punctuation of the word killing, Janie gave him another one of her grimace-like smiles. “A burger… at one am in the morning…”

 

“I´m hungry, too,” piped up the one in the blue scrubs before awkwardly scratching his head.

 

“Yeah… Didn't she say something about cake earlier?” A voice coming directly from behind her had Janie jump which only made the tattooed one smirk, Charlie rolling his eyes.

 

“ _My_ cake – ” Janie protested but was cut off by the emo-version.

 

“Cake sounds _fantastic_. I hope it´s chocolate.” With an elaborate gesture of his arms, he stepped away from the door, clearing the path. “Lead the way.”

 

Shell-shocked by the happenings, Janie did not even think about protesting this time and pushed the door open, inhaling deeply the cold autumn air. Sadly, trying to make her hallucinations disappear did not work. Trudging after her, boots loud on the leaves, she led the four identical but so entirely different men to her house. After all, if they wanted to kill her, they could have done that in the barn, so why not let them into the house too?

She just hoped her cake would survive.

* * *

 

Turns out, Janie did not get her piece of cake. To be honest, after the four grown men were finished with her fridge, the only thing left was an old package of blue cheese that was well over three months old. They didn’t even leave her her peanut butter, those bastards.

At least she found out their names.

 

Charlie she already knew, after all, he had tried to choke her. She wouldn't forget him that soon.

The one clad in black; who had saved her life, was Eric. The other, Kyle, who still appeared rather disturbed. He was cowered away in the farthest corner of her kitchen, eyeing all of her electronic devices as if they would come to life at any second. She had to roll her eyes at that. They weren't in Transformers after all.

But if you asked Janie, a self-cooking oven was what she dreamed of at night.

 

For Kyle, she had gone through her father´s old shirt, not being able to stand the pitiful sight of him in hospital scrubs. Now he was wearing old jogging pants and a tattered shirt that stretched too tight over his arms. Despite his anxious appearance, she had to admit he did have muscles.

 

Lastly, there was Boomer, or Captain Boomerang, or George ‘Digger’ Harkness, or daddy; like he had asked her to call him followed by a raaawr and a low purred ‘Kitten’.

 If Janie hadn´t been doubtful of his - how should we say it - mental state, _that_ would have had her almost convinced that something wasn´t quite right with the fellow. But what happened after letting her know he belonged nowhere else but in an asylum. Where he most likely came from. Perhaps grown up and raised, like in one of those bad horror movies.

 

There was an old unicorn hidden away in her storage room where she had kept the mattresses for them to sleep on, and as soon as he saw the pink, fluffy unicorn, he lunged for it, shoving Charlie into an old closet. He hasn´t laid it down ever since; even took it with him into the bathtub, something Janie practically had to force onto him. But with Eric´s help, who blatantly refused to sleep beside him for a whole night while he was smelling like rotten fruit, it was manageable.

 

Janie felt more than a little insane for even entertaining the idea of letting all four of them live with her, but surprisingly, it worked out quite well and in the meantime, she learned a lot about her new subtenants.

Boomer, unsurprisingly came from the country down under which she had already guessed from his accent, not to mention the strange phrases he used. Busted after knocking his partner in crime out in the middle of the bank they had robbed by a guy in a red, leather body suit, he had been shipped to the US to play hero. But after watching his friend's head getting blown away; which he described with the most gruesome details, he suddenly found himself in the barn with no knowledge of how he had gotten there.

 

The same with Eric.

Just like the Captain, he was a lot more full of himself than Janie liked a man to be, boasting and gloating like a parading cock. From what she understood, he was a leader of some sorts in a city that had been cut off from the outside for hundreds of years and was divided into groups, based on their genetic information. Whoever came up with that shit had no idea how genes really work, just saying.

All in all, he was a cocky arrogant bastard, but Janie couldn't help but find him attractive either way. There was just _something_ about bad boys. But this one also had a brain.

 

From the other two, she had neither heard nor seen very much after that first evening. Kyle had been suspiciously silent, even while shoveling food into his mouth, the other´s starting to bring out the big guns. Not the muscles on their arms, no they were pretty similar, but their real ones.

Charlie, a company worker from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and the only one that seemed to be from this century, as well as not an alternate timeline, prided himself into fabricating all his bullets by himself, as well as being a sniper. In fact, he had found his rifle and a full case of bullets in the barn where he had appeared. Janie had wanted to forbid him to bring it into the house, but Oh, well… Arguing with a psychotic gunman that had the rifle in hand wasn't that high on her life-goals list. In the end, they banned it into the attic to where he disappeared at once and did not come out for two days straight.

Eric´s gun, on the other hand, was a small one; almost like a child's toy but its deadly firing power was not to be questioned. Especially not when he started describing the initiation process –  and how much he hated one of his co-workers.

Janie could relate, she too wished to eliminate tattletale of the office, a woman named Patrice that was annoyingly persistent in wanting to be her friend. 

 

It got problematic however when Boomer started to display his weapons, a wide range of boomerangs hidden in the depths of his trench coat that he never took off. Not sure if it was an accident or a spontaneous burst of insanity but he pressed the button on one of the explosives. He had to haul his ass out the kitchen and into the garden, only just managing to hurl it away before it exploded against her favorite tree, smashing the old oak into pieces. The only reason the thing didn’t catch fire was the storm the night before, a sheen layer of wetness coating the bark and preventing a disaster.

 

Either way, the police came to investigate, alarmed by a frightened neighbor that had heard the bang even though he lived the quarter of an hour away. While Janie was busy placating them, because no, no one here blew anything up, three of the anarchists hid in the potato cellar while the other one just... vanished.

Later, and after being creeped out by the strange noises coming from under her stairs she would find him, curled up in a nest of blankets in the cupboard under the stairs, where he hid cables and machine parts. As soon as Janie poked her head through the door, cautious because she still hadn´t forgotten what happening in Conjuring, Kyle threw one of the blankets over his stuff, hiding it from her before screaming at her to get out.

Janie had only once witnessed such an outburst when her mother walked in on her brother with his inflatable girlfriend, an event that was never talked but always snickered about on family reunions, even long after he managed to score himself a real one.

So in all, the only time she heard or saw anything from Kyle was when he sneaked out to the fridge at eleven in the evening and really early in the morning. She was pretty sure he had not showered once yet and that the suspiciously yellow looking bottle beside him wasn´t filled with soda.

The thought alone made Janie shudder.

 

She was currently taking a long, hot shower to calm her nerves. Living with four full-grown men that either behaved like teenagers or sociopaths was too much even for her. When she had moved out from home with eighteen to attend college, she thought she never had to share her bath with an ape again (with ape she meant her three brothers that were equally loud and hairy as the former speciesism), still, here she was. Again.

Not only had Charlie come in unannounced and used the toilet before her very own eyes but not even ten minutes in, an ear-shattering scream had her flying out the bathroom, only covered with a towel.

 

Worried that someone had been seriously hurt, she sprinted to where she thought the scream to have come from and already expected to see a young woman pierced with one of Charlie's bullets, after all, which man had such a high-pitched voice?

Following the shouting, all she found was the Captain shouting profanities and Eric releasing a knife with a calculating smirk pulling up his lip.

 

The blade whizzed past Janie´s head, only centimeters away and landed with a dull thud that was followed by another outcry from his doppelganger.

“C’mon, man! Ya can´t do that! What has pinky eva done to ya?”

 

Eric rolled his eyes, flicking around yet another blade in his hand. “It´s _pink_.”

 

“ _Mate_ , It´s a unicor- NO!”

 

Flinching a second time, Janie clutched her towel to her chest, her voice coming out as a whizz. “What are you _doing_?”

 

“Target practice.” Eric´s wandering eyes were not lost on her and Janie felt herself blush a little, realizing that the skimpy towel just barely covered her ass. This fact was not lost on him, his smirk broadening.

 

“Thank fuck ya´re here!” Boomer threw his hands in the air before grabbing her, giving a few good shakes. “He´s killin’ ma unicorn! You gotta help me!”

 

“Alright, alright!” Freeing herself from his grasp, Janie made sure all her lady-parts were covered before turning to Eric, giving him her sternest gaze. “Give him pinky back.”

 

“You´re not serious, are you?” When his long hard stare was met by her long hard stare, he shook his head, chuckling sarcastically.

 

“Eric.” Cocking her hips to the side, she tried to not think about the fact that she was almost naked and he a very, _very_ attractive man. Instead, she channeled her inner Oprah, despite the fact that she was dripping on the carpet. "How about you give him pinky back and instead use a… a ham or something like that! I don´t know…" When he raised one eyebrow at her, Janie threw her hands in the air.

Hand.

Janie threw her hand in the air, the other one clutching the towel tightly. She wouldn´t give the two of them a peep show. Even if Boomer was just interested in the wounded unicorn that was pinned to the wall with a knife in his abdomen.

“Just give him back the damn stuffy!”

 

“Fine.” His change in attitude was so fast, it gave Janie whiplash. Boomer sprinted towards the wall to free the wounded unicorn. Crocodile tears gathered in his eyes as he took in the damage left behind by three sharp blades, the stuffing starting to spill out. Reacting immediately before those two could start WW 3 in her living room, Janie promised to sew it up if he waited in the kitchen.

 

When he was gone, Janie turned to Eric. “You are really mean, you know?”

“I guess.” Scrunching up his face, he shrugged his shoulders. “But that´s usually how the girls like me.”

 

“Well, certainly not me.” Janie declared, staring at him challenging. Eric took a step closer, intense eyes almost scorching her.

 

“We´ll see.” His eyes raking over her semi-naked form, Eric could no longer suppress a smirk.

“Nice packaging for your fanny you got there. You should think about investing in some panties.”

 

With one last chuckle, he was gone, leaving a shell-shocked Janie that was scrambling to cover herself and her bald fanny behind. Finally alone, she sunk down on the couch and covered her eyes with her hands.

Only a week living with those anarchists and she was already well on the way to the looney bin. This level of stress definitely called for a night in her favorite PJ’s, a sweater mess of fluff and comfort that always made her feel like a fluffy bunny. Well, rather a fluffy bunny than a bald fa- you know what I mean.

 

At least she didn’t have to worry about Boomer anymore.

As soon as she patched the unicorn up, he was back to his old, rambunctious self – not the whinny little girl she had got to meet. When he started to rip the door to the closet under the stairs open just to scream ‘Karry Rotter in the cupboard under the stairs!' (so it really had been slutty Hermione) and run away, cackling like the maniac he is, Janie was almost tempted to behead the unicorn and leave it on his pillow. But she had heard to many horror stories about what kinds of animals were at home in Australia.

And she much rather have a unicorn called pinky in the house than a boa constrictor called choker.

* * *

 

Later that week, Janie had a date. Neither did she want to call it a date, nor did she like the guy, but Jean-Luke was an unpleasantly persistent guy. Countless times he had asked her out, seemingly taking every rejection in stride and still, his wounded puppy-dog eyes haunted. No longer able to ignore him – or his advances – she had accepted, unwillingly but he didn't care.

If one bad date would be enough to keep him from ‘accidentally meeting’ her at the theater and following her home, even though she knew he had in the past, then so be it.

If it should not be enough, there still was a psychopath sitting in her attic right now, thirsting for murder. She had no doubt in mind he knew how to make it look like an accident.

 

As six o’clock approached, Janie was just done applying one last coat of mascara, grabbed her clutch and made her way downstairs, careful to not trip over her heels as she descended the stairs, the clicking of her shoes heard through the whole house.

It drew Eric from the kitchen where he, face contorted in his usual scowl, tried to get the popcorn machine to work. There was another one of those secret agent movies and he was determined to watch them all.

But when he arrived in the hallway, bowl in hand and ready to snap at her, the sight in front of him was enough to shut him up.

 

The woman, who he usually only knew to be clad in amity jeans and those insanely strange fluffy pajamas that made him want to throw up, stood a few stairs above him, a small black number hugging every delicious curve of her body, her usually straight blonde hair pinned up in an intricate up-do, accentuating her simple but elegant make-up. When she looked up, blue eyes meeting grey ones, the only thing being heard was the bowl falling, shattering into a thousand pieces.

While they both stared at each other, Eric transfixed, Janie startled, everything around them exploded in chaos.

 

“Burglars! Hide yo’ loot!” The Captain came crashing into the hallway from his hide-out in the utility room, one of his explosive boomerangs raised high above his head while the red spot appearing on Eric´s chest announced Charlie´s arrival with the silence of a skilled killer. How he made his way down from the attic where he had laid low on the floor, scouting the grounds around the old farm through the lens of his semi-automatic weapon, his finger always on the trigger, was a mystery to them all.

Realizing there was no danger around, Charlie rolled his eyes and put the gun down while the Captain furrowed his brow, after wildly looking around but finding no one that tried to steal his treasures.

“Oi! What was that for, you wonker? I almost blew us all to shit, ya –”

 

He trailed off as he noticed the woman in front of him. Trying to cover up his freak out, he propped one hand against the wall, with the other trying to tame his unruly beard.

“Yo, doll, ya going somewhere?”

 

Before Janie could answer him, Eric had already pushed him away with an inauspicious but painful shove to the ribs, trying to get her attention back. But by now, all four of them were vying for her attention. Yes, I said four.

Even Kyle stuck out his head from the cupboard, the thought of having to destroy an evil A.I. forgotten at his first sight of creamy white thighs.

It made her a little uncomfortable having all of these strange men staring at her intensely so the knock on the door came just at the right time.

The only problem, that Eric was the first to answer, the Captain lurking around in the background, scaring the poor lad that was standing there with exactly four daisies in hand. If we were in a comic, the sight of the bulky, tattooed, as well as the hairy burglar-like men towering over his form, would have the flowers wilt on the spot but as it is, he only swallowed heavily, glad the exit behind him was clear.

Well, until the Captain stepped forward and clasped his back almost painfully. Still, it was the tattooed one that addressed him.

 

“You must be Janie's _friend_. We've all been waiting for you.”

 

“You… you were?” he stuttered, thinking that maybe he was at the wrong house. After all, Janie did not live with guys that looked like

  1. a) An underground fighter
  2. b) Some wannabe rapper that made his money with burglaries and drugs just to spend it on prostitutes after



 

And c) a creepy guy staring down the stairs while inauspiciously shoving something away from his line of sight.

And was this… did that guy really just come from the cupboard under the stairs?! What was this, freaking Harry Potter and the mob?!

 

“Of course.” Eric shoved Boomer out of the way, pulling Jean-Luke inside where he led him through the hallway into the kitchen. Janie only managed an awkward smile before he was gone again. When Charlie pushed past, she unfroze, hurrying after them as fast as her heels allowed it.

The sight that greeted her when she came into the kitchen was vying for the spot of the strangest encounter of her life, competing with the night she found the four **anarchists** in the barn of course.

 

Eric had politely forced Jean-Luke into a chair on the dinner table, taking a seat opposite of him while Kyle, being the only one that had mechanic experience battled with the coffee-machine, because that's what you do when you want to appear friendly. You invite people for a coffee.

 

Janie´s date looked utterly lost, eyes frantically flitting between the four men that all looked strangely similar. Did Janie have secret quadruple brothers?

He was convinced, avoiding the stare of the tattooed man, just to catch the eyes of another that was staring at him with what he could only describe as bloodlust. When the third started cackling to himself while picking his fingernails, he thought to himself that the one operating the coffee maker must be the normal one of the lot. That was until he placed a cup of brown water in front of his face with a satisfied smile.

All the poor man was able to do was smile back awkwardly. Whatever the hell their problem was. Every single one of them looked as if they lifted steel beams in the morning and whole cars in the evening.

 

“So…” Eric drawled, sending Kyle with a move of his hand to stand in the opposite corner of the room. “You wanna take Jan out, right?”

 

“Yes, that was the plan.” Trying to come over as the honest and hard-working man he is, Jean-Luke mirrored Eric´s stance, hands folded on the table and leaning forwards. But all he got in return was a disdainful glance from the man in front of him and a snicker from the Captain that had made himself at home on the old bench, busy inspecting what seemed to be his toenails.

 

“And where do you want to take her?” Hand closed around the cup in front of him, Eric´s tone was almost bored but like always the glint in his eyes gave him away. He was more than just interested.

Behind him at the other side of the room, Kyle took a sip from his cup and immediately spit it out again, all over Charlie´s shoes who retaliated with a muffled curse and a hit over the head.

 

“Ehh, there's this…” Ripping his gaze away from the strange scene before him, Jean-Luke’s focus switched over to the block tattoos that adorned his neck, asking himself how the man could have lived through so much pain. He only had one tattoo of his own, a little fairy on his right butt cheek, a reminder to never bet on anything while drunk – especially not on ducks.

...Don´t even ask.

“There's this new restaurant that just opened in town. We got reservations in like, thirty minutes, so we have to leave soon…”

 

“Yeah, right. And you will have her back before midnight?” Recoiling in surprise, Jean-Luke furrowed his brows.

 

“No offense, but are you her brother´s or something like that?” He laughed awkwardly, trying to hide how uncomfortable he felt in their presence but trailed off quickly when no one joined him.

 

“Something like that.” Eric tilted his head and Jean-Luke suddenly got the feeling that he just failed an important interview. He stayed basically iced onto the chair while the other men started trickling out of the room one after another, Eric stopping in the threshold to fix him with one last stare.

“Midnight, yeah?”

 

“Yes, of course!” He jumped at the opportunity to reassure him. “She´ll be back way before then… Not way, no, but in time. Yes, just in time.”

 

Alone in the kitchen, Jean-Luke rambled on and on while Janie stood in the other room, earning herself a wink from the Captain and the rare sight of Eric wearing a self-satisfied smirk. Those were usually kept for himself.

“Good luck with that one.” Bending over, Eric´s mouth was right beside her ear, breath washing over her face. “You'll definitely need it.”

 

With another chuckle, that was worthy of a real villain, he followed his three doppelgangers into the depths of the house while Janie stayed back, already exhausted before the night had even started.

Closing her eyes in horror, she rubbed her forehead as she relived every single word that had been spoken in her once tranquil kitchen that was slowly being taken over by a bunch of wildlings.

She was in for a long night.

* * *

 

The date went to hell, or should she say to the doppelgangers. Not that Janie had wanted to go out in the first place, but spending the whole night being badgered with questions like ‘Who were they?’ or ‘Where did they come from’ made it even worse. But when Jean-Luke asked if they were here for a porn production she had just had _enough_. Cutting their date short may have just been the best thing she experienced the whole week.

Well, except, of course, the day before. She and the three (Kyle was hiding in the closet under the stairs again; all she heard from under there were mechanical clunks and a few groans and Janie hoped it was because he had hit his head, not something else) guys went grocery shopping. She had had enough, having to carry around heavy bags when she had three guys of which not one skipped leg day, and it was obvious.

Not just to her but also to the other women from the village who were out for their weekly errands. Janie had never gotten so many scandalous stares, but at least every one of them was envious.

Envious that she had three guys at home, men that helped with the shopping while theirs were wasting away on their couches, beer in one hand, the remote in the other. She would bet that at least half of them would trade their husbands (and bag-sized dogs) in for one night with one of her men.

 

Little did they know, that Eric got up every morning at six am, made scrambled eggs and coffee, only for himself, before training until his shirt was soaked through, stinking up her whole garage.

That Charlie, ever since he found his sniper, spent most of his days lying in the attic with his gun, scouting out the area.

That Kyle had created something akin to a lair beneath her stairs, stealing blankets and disassembling her electronic devices because he was searching for parts to build a time machine with.

That the Captain liked to strip down naked and walk through the house. Or that she was convinced he had used her laptop to watch porn. OR, that she discovered it really was a slutty version of Hermione, giving head to the headmaster.

Yeah, living with them wasn't as great as one would have thought.

 

After three weeks of Boomer lounging around in front of the TV with his hand in his sweatpants (yuck), Charlie building a fort in her attic, Eric having a mental breakdown because he had nothing or no one to beat up and Kyle being holed up in the cupboard that started to emit a strange smell, not even mentioned the clanks and cluttering at night, Janie had enough. She needed a whole day just to herself, with no suggestive glances, no bitching about pointless stuff and especially no _guns_.

Just this morning, Charlie´s gun went off in the middle of breakfast. He almost shot Kyle in the ass and managed to destroy her favorite vase, so they had to go. All of them. Just for a few short hours of uninterrupted me-time.

Janie asked herself if that´s what motherhood felt like and she seriously hoped not.

To send them out, exploring the wilderness around the cottage was just one of the best things she could have done.

 

A long, relaxing bath, a good book and several chocolate bars later she felt as if she could deal with the whole bunch again. She even had the time to clean the cupboard, exchange a few of the blankets, leftover food from two weeks ago and the full bottle that most certainly was not lemonade (double-yuck). The other thing she found was mechanical parts, lots of them, that have been assembled to a one-foot-high round device, that seemed to be a work in progress. Shifting through the parts, Janie could have sworn that at least one of them belonged into her washing machine that suspiciously stopped working a few day´s ago. As well as her clock, her cell phone, and the remote control.

That bastard.

The only reason he must have left the TV alone was, that Boomer would have skinned him alive. His new-found love for soccer instead of cricket made him a little more violent than usual. Well, as long as it made Kyle happy and prevent him from going off the rails, she was okay with it. The washing machine needed replacement either way.

 

However much she loved the solitude, after dust was setting in, Janie began to worry. What if they got lost on their way home. Or worse, got arrested for trying to rob the local bank? God knows they have the skills for it. Kyle would be the one to keep watch, Charlie would take out the security as stealthy as a snake, Boomer would break open the bank vault and Eric would help carry the loot.

The longer Janie thought about it, the more vivid her imagination became and she was just about to jump up and go search for them, maybe on the police station, when the front door opened.

 

Face red from the chilly autumn air, Kyle was the first to come in, closely followed by Eric and the other two. Janie breathed a sigh of relief because neither of them looked bruised or battered in any way. Them killing each other would have been the second point on her very long list.

But the relief was short-lived because Boomer opened his coat to expose a cat nestled into his warmth. As if on cue, the other three stretched out their arms, presenting Janie three mini-me´s of the big one. Kittens.

Where the hell did they get kittens?

 

“Where the hell did you get kittens?” Janie asked quite loudly, already fearing the worst.

 

“Found them on the street. Don´t worry, we didn’t _steal_ them.” Eric rolled his eyes, putting his kitten back into his pocket.

 

“This little mama was screamin’ for meh to get her. Look at that fluff!” The Captain raked his finger´s through her fur and was promptly rewarded by a loud purring. “She´s purrin’ louder for me than most of me kittens.”

 

A resonating groan echoed through the room and Janie scrunched up her face. She had always hated when someone called her that. But she had no doubt that most of the women Boomer associated with liked to do strange things in the bedroom. The tales she heard could never be forgotten. They were burned into her memory so deep, not even bleach would help.

 

“Can we keep them?”

 

“No – what? No!” Janie heaved a frustrated sigh, raking a hand over her face. “We can´t keep them.” Four heads snapped up, varying between shock and anger.

 

“Why not?” Charlie questioned, his unnerving gaze trailed onto her.

 

“Just… because!” Janie stuttered, trying to come up with a valid reason. “Because… the dog doesn´t like cats! That´s it. And we all don´t want kitten kebab, right?”

 

The looks being thrown her way almost made her feel as if she was the kitten murder. It didn´t help that in the same moment the dog came in, trotted over to where Boomer held the mother and gave her a lick before laying down on his bed.

Janie felt her resolve crack under their accusing stares. She threw her hands in the air.

 

“Fine! Keep them.” Pointing with her finger at them, she narrowed her eyes. “But you will be cleaning the litter tray!”

* * *

 

It turned out, that keeping those smoll fluff balls of love may have just been the best that´s happened to Janie in the last month. Boomer finally had an occupation of his time, instead of just watching TV and drinking beer he spent most of the time in the laundry room where the kittens could toll around freely. The mother-cat, with the new-found name Miss Dixy, was in love with him.

If she didn´t look after her babies, she slept curled in his lap, or on his chest, wherever she could. Eric was enamored with the complete black little tomcat, claiming that he matched his clothes while Charlie always carried around the orange-striped one that he´d named Sandy, after a long-lost love.

Even Kyle came crawling out of the cupboard for an hour a day to watch them roll around and play. Not once had Janie heard Boomer call him Karry Rotter after that.

They all seemed to get along.

 

One afternoon, just a week shy of Halloween, Janie was sitting in her kitchen, reading through the daily paper when Eric joined her. Looking up, she raised her eyebrows.

“Where are Tweedledee and Tweedledum? I thought you were a package deal?”

 

"Not today." He suppressed a snicker. "Miss Dixie peed on his coat, right onto pinky."

 

“Oh no!” Janie groaned. “And Kyle dissembled the washing machine…”

 

“Yeah, he´s been scrubbing and whining the past twenty minutes.” No matter how much he tried to hide it, Janie saw the satisfaction ghosting over Eric´s face. Stepping closer to the cabinets, he pulled out a pan. “You already ate?”

 

“Nope. Just wanted to start cooking.” Getting up with a sigh, Janie was not prepared to be pushed back into her chair. When she whirled around, Eric´s face was unreadable.

 

“We all know I´m a better cook anyway.”

 

“Oh, really?” Janie raised her eyebrow and sat back. “Then let´s see.”

And see she did.

 

With a grace that was reserved only for dancer´s and the masters of material arts, Eric made his way through the kitchen, pulling out herbs and other ingredients as he went. Within minutes the mouthwatering smell of well-prepared food floated the kitchen. Janie´s eyes not once left his body.

With her chin leaned on the backrest, she spoke what she had thought countless times these past few weeks.

“You know, you always insist that you´re so scary. But honestly, you´re not half bad.”

 

Eric let out a loud, carefree laugh. Grabbing a pinch of salt, he poured it over the dish, turning off the stove

 

“That´s what she said.” With a wink, he shoveled the omelet onto the plate and placed it in front of her. “Bon Appétit.”

 

While she stared at the plate flabbergasted, he was already gone, vanished in the depths of the old cottage. Janie felt a strange tweak in her chest. She had never had a man cook for her, nonetheless in such a casual way. As if they did this every day.

A nice, kinda warmish feeling.

 

Curious, if the omelet would taste as good as it looked, Janie picked up the fork and took a bite. When the flavors exploded on her tongue, she had to suppress a moan. It was even better.

* * *

 

“Jan, ya there?”

She looked up from her book, furrowing her brow at the Captain's strange behavior; acting like a little boy surely did not suit him.

“Yes, what can I help you with?” Closing the book, she cocked her head at him when he started rubbing his neck.

 

"Ya see… there´s a…" He scrunched up his nose, bowing forward towards her ear. The last thing he wanted was the other buggers to hear him talk about his tallywhacker. He didn't discriminate between men and women but this would go a little far, even for him. Making sure one last time no one was around, he whispered at her. "There´s a bushfire going on, you know, _down_ there…”

 

Blinking incredibly, Janie´s stare wandered from his face to the bulge right in front of her face that he covered with one of his hands, obviously scratching his itch right in front of her face. Before she could regain her countenance, Eric strode into the room, a book of his own in hand. Barely sparing the two of them a glance, he went over to the cabinet and poured himself a drink while the Captain squirmed uncomfortably in his spot, trying to be inconspicuous. But with years of experience around crabby teens - no pun intended - Eric knew exactly what was going on.

Turning around, he leaned against the wooden shelf, taking a sip of his drink, keeping a straight face despite the burn in his throat he asked casually.

“You shagged a sheep?”

 

Sputtering, the Captain straightened up, looking at the other man in horror. " ‘course not! Whatcha talkin ‘bout?! My willy´s going nowhere near a jumbuck! I´m not that toey!"

 

“Really?” Eric raised one eyebrow, hiding his smirk behind the rim of the tumbler. “Never looked at one thinking it was a good _root_?” Eric taunted him further, enjoying easy prey in the bastard way.

 

“No!” Boomer called out again, his face immediately falling as he stumbled over his words, shooting the woman in front of him a quick glance. Every chance of getting her for a good shag just flew outta the window. “But… There was this orange…” he surrendered, trailing off.

Janie stilled in her seat, suddenly realizing why she had found at least three different oranges with only holes in them laying around in her utility room. She shuddered violently, thinking about _how she touched them_. Of course, it hadn't been the dog!

 

“So…” Eric trailed off before coming straight to the point. “You decided to fuck an orange?”

 

“The computer told meh to!” the Captain cried out, glancing at the shocked woman to his side. “I was searching fer vids when SheepShagger69 told me to just make a hole and put it intah the microwave!”

 

“I know. I found your browser history.” Eric rolled his eyes, shaking his head. But when he fixed the Captain with another stare, he could no longer suppress a smirk. “You know, Janie really has a nice collection of rosehips. Luckily, she freed them from all of their seeds because they itch like hell…”

 

Both Janie and the Captain understood the underlying message in the same moment and she watched Boomer's face slowly turning red as he realized what exactly Eric had done, a malevolent glint sparkling in his eyes that promised manslaughter.

“YA FUCKING PUT ITCHING POWDER INTO MA ORANGE?!”

 

Not a second after the words had left his mouth, Boomer lunged for him, knocking him straight into the old oak wood wardrobe and both went down. All Janie could do was watch first in horror, then slowly resignation took over while both men were swinging at each other, rolling around and bumping into the furniture.

 

Without another word, she got up and left with a new resolve. Never again would she buy anything fragile and never, _ever_ in her life would she touch something she didn’t know where it came from.

_Or where it had been._

* * *

 

Clad with the laundry basket under her arm, Janie was on her way to her bedroom. Because the washing machine was out of order, she had to use the antique laundry tub in the second, older barn. Not only did her hands burn from the hard, unusual work but her whole appearance was in disarray, being splashed with water for so often. That was, why when Kyle called her name she was reluctant to go see him. A shower sounded so much better.

But because she was such a great person and he never really bothered her, Janie turned around and gave him a smile.

“What can I help you with?”

 

Scratching his head, Kyle seemed to have no idea where to start. “I want you to know that I appreciate it, everything you´ve done for us. I mean, the cooking, the cleaning up after us, washing our clothes by hand… By the way, sorry for that.” Scrunching up his nose, he gestured towards the basket that she had cocked up on her hips.  “I just… I think it´s time for me to go home.”

 

“Go home?” Janie questioned a little confused, setting the basket on the floor so she could focus on Kyle. “How would you do that?”

 

“You see, I´ve been working on the solution for the past few weeks now and I finally got it right.”

 

“So you´re leaving?” Janie asked, only realizing how upset she sounded when she had already spoken. Kyle gave her a sad smile.

 

“Yes.”

 

"Oh, okay…" Lost, Janie had no idea what she should do until she was suddenly enveloped by a pair of sturdy arms. Reciprocating his hug, she realized that even though he was a lot skinnier than Boomer, for example, he could most likely still crush a small vehicle with that muscles of his.

“I´m going to miss you.”

 

And she spoke the truth. Over those four weeks, she had known those four anarchists, she somehow got to like every single one of them, even Charlie, though he still scared her sometimes. She had got accustomed to the metallic clattering in the dead hours of the night, as well as bursts of steam wafting through the slits. If Janie wouldn´t have known a mechanic was working in the cupboard under the stars, she could have mistaken it for a wizard.

Pressing her against his chest one last time, Kyle released her.

 

„You´re really nice, and I would love to stay for a little bit longer but...“

 

"Sarah." Janie nodded, giving him a warm smile. In the few hours, he had spent with her in the living room while the others were out wreaking havoc she had gotten to hear quite a bit of her. And even though he didn´t know her all that much, Janie knew he was head over heels."

 

 A smile tugged up the corners of his mouth, a strange spark behind his eyes.

“Yeah, she´s waiting for me to come home. Well, to Los Angeles in 1987 but that´s just figures…” He stared at Janie for a long time before shrugging his shoulders. “I guess this is goodbye?”

 

"Yes." Giving him a sad smile, Janie took a step back. "I´m going to miss you, Kyle. You strange guy."

 

“I´m going to miss you too. I will think of you when I defeat Skynet.”

 

“You do that!” Janie laughed and picked up the basket, a small sliver of melancholia tugging in her chest. “I hope everything turns out well for you.”

 

“For you too. Goodbye Janie.” With one last wave, he disappeared back into the cupboard. When the door closed behind him, Janie knew she would never see him again.

The other´s found her sitting in the hallway with the basket on her lap two hours later. Veiled by white fog that came from the cupboard forty minutes ago, Eric almost stumbled over Janie´s feet, just to stop short in his path and be run over by Boomer. Shooting him a glare, he perched down in front of Janie, scrutinizing her face closely.

“Everything´s alright?”

 

“He´s gone.” Was all she answered, cocking her head.

 

“Who´s gone?” Charlie inquired before shoving Boomer out of his way and the door to the cupboard open. A new surge of smoke wafted into his face, making him cough. But when it cleaned up enough for him to see, he turned around with furrowed brows. “He´s gone.”

 

“I know.” Janie sighed, getting up from the floor. She had heard the exact moment he left, the buzzing and whirling coming to a new high that had the house shake in its foundation. Then, all had become still. Kyle was gone. “I’ll need a new washing machine, but at least he´s home now.”

 

“You think so?” Eric asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

"Well, I hope so. No idea where he´d end up at if not in LA 1987." With one last look at the circular machine in the middle of the cupboard, she walked into the kitchen, all three trailing behind her like lost kittens.

“Now,” She threw open the door of the fridge. “who wants cake?”

 

* * *

 

The 31st of October, one of Jamie´s favorite holidays: Halloween.

Dressing up had always been one of her favorite past times, if it was dresses from the 18th century England, her mother´s favorite lingerie or those huge yellow blobs they called minions – it didn´t matter. As long as she was disguised so heavily not even her mom recognized her, everything was well. Or not, if you counted that time she called the police because the Babadook was haunting her house. It was an uncomfortable night and many uncomfortable days of being grounded afterward.

Still, she just loved it.

 

Spending the day carving a pumpkin with the three as well as trying to hide the candy from Boomer (not that many ever came out this far, but still) the hours flew by and before she knew, dusk was settling in, an eerie feeling adding to the spooky atmosphere. Having put the men in charge of installing the pumpkin light chains, an effortless try to tire Boomer out for the night, Janie was busy finishing up the pumpkin-spice soup when she heard the tell-tale slamming shut of the front door.

Raised voices alerted her that something was wrong. Pulling off the apron, she hurried into the foyer.

 

Squaring up to each other, Boomer and Charlie were facing off, the gunmen’s skin flushing a dangerous shade of red. “You stabbed me!”

Holding up his bleeding hand for all to see, Janie´s eyes widened in disbelieving.

 

“T’was an accident!” Boomer shouted back, no feelings of guilt marring his conscious.

 

Gritting his jaw, Charlie took a step closer, pointing his finger into Boomer´s face. “Twice!”

 

Diverting his stare at the ceiling, Boomer scrunched up his face in concentration. After a short moment, he shrugged his shoulders. “Well, two accident´s.”

 

“You little…!” Charlie´s advances at Boomer were intercepted by Eric stepping in between, doing nothing but stare at him. Seizing him up, for a moment it seemed as if Charlie would try to take him on too but ultimately, he knew it was a bad idea and stepped back. Even a serial-killer training couldn’t match up to Eric´s routine.

When it came to exercising, Eric was like a mad-man possessed.

 

Trying to diffuse the situation, Jamie stepped in between them pushing Charlie back with her palms on his chest when tried getting to Boomer, who did nothing but grin at him.

 

“What the hell is going on?” Janie demanded to know, making her voice as stern as she could. When both men started yelling simultaneously, she turned to Eric.

He could barely suppress a grin.

 

“Captain here thought the knife from the box wasn´t a real one so he tested it out… twice.”

 

“RIGHT INTO MY FUCKIN’ HAND!” Charlie shouted, lashing out. The sound of porcelain breaking against the wall had Janie jerk, the men were unfazed.

Until a voice resonated in the room that belonged to none of the four.

 

"Nah, nah. Why so violent? There is nothing to be upset about." Whirling around, Janie came to face an elderly man in a full-blown Halloween costume. A beard going well over his chest, his hair almost the same length was covered by a large hat with a pointed end. His walking stick was frighteningly huge and sturdy enough to knock someone on their arse with. But his clothing was the most bizarre because it was -

 

“Is that a cloak?” Eric asked incredibly, eyebrows pulled up into his hairline. Boomer grunted out a disagreeing sound.

 

“Nah, I think it´s one of those maxi-dresses the more corpulent women like to wear. You know, to hide their _titties_ …”

 

“Silence!” The man bellowed, throwing Boomer a glare that surprisingly did shut him up. “We are not here to converse about my choice of attire, which is, if I may say so, the hottest shit in Mordor –“

 

“What´s a Mordor?” Boomer whisper-asked Eric who just shrugged his shoulders, the corners of his mouth slowly pulling down. Narrowing his eyes, he spoke up, suspicion laced in his voice. “Who are you?”

 

“It is, in fact, a kingdom.” The hooded man answered with a sigh. “And my name is Gandolf, the grey.”

 

For a moment everything was silent, then:

 

“Your name is _Gandolf_ , the _grey_?” Boomer exploded into a fit of giggles that grew worse with each passing second. Choking on his own voice he wheezed out: “An’ ya´re from Mordor?  Where´s tha’? Right nex’ to Hogwarts?” Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Boomer brushed away a stray tear. “ For meh ya lookin’ like an idiot in a cloak. Better get back to you´re nursin’ home, old man.”

 

"Enough!" Eye´s blazing, Gandolf, the grey, slammed the end of his walking stick into the ground, making not only Boomer but also the other two freeze on their spots. Wide-eyed, Janie gaze flew from the petrified men towards the wizard, taking a cautious step back.

“Now that those big-mouthed idiots are quiet, we shall have our talk.”

 

“O-our talk?” Janie squeaked out, wishing that the knife Boomer abused was somewhere near. If she should go from this world it would not be with twenty-six. No, she´d be at least forty-seven, unmarried with 12 cats. When they would finally find her corpse, three weeks later there would not be much left of her. After all, her darlings had to eat.

 

“Of course, our talk. I am sincerely sorry for sending you those four idiots, there was a slight mix-up in our wish-granting factory.” Gandolf sighed.

 

“A… a _mix-up_.” Janie asked unbelievingly, staring at him. She consciously chose to disregard the wish-granting thing.

 

"Yes, you see," He started, gesturing for her to take a seat on the bench right beside the shoe rack. With shaky legs, she sunk down. "Right at the moment, you wished for your perfect man, a woman in an alternative reality that was in a bit of trouble wished upon the gods for them to save her. You see, her husband had to sell himself into slavery and she wished for someone to bring him back to her. Your two wishes were confused.

I would have liked to right this wrong, but by the time we realized what went wrong, the four meant for you had already, sadly, found their end in an arena by the hand of a very vicious lion.

I am sincerely sorry for that.”

 

Nodding along to everything he said, Janie felt just the same, if not even crazier than the night she found the four anarchists in her barn. “So… my perfect men are… dead?”

 

"I fear so." Gandolf sighed. "And they were the last one of their kinds we produced. Semi-hard working, slightly homophobic men, just a tiny, weeny bit. They would have been perfect in the beginning, charming you off your pants until you said yes, then impregnated you in your wedding night before forcing you to quit your job. Three kids later, two too much for their liking, but they had insisted after you worked day and night to keep the house clean and your body in shape, they would have to work longer and longer. Then weekends, whole trips with the firm.

After a talk with one of his colleagues, you would finally find out that he has had an affair for as long as his new secretary worked for him. First you´d ignore it, try to keep the appearances up but when they got bolder, even doing it on _your_ kitchen counter, you know because you found her thong in the cupboard beside your kid´s lunch boxes you would have enough.

Following a divorce, a few one-night stands with bikers from the freeway that frequent the local pub and a steamy affair with your twenty-year younger gardener, a son that hates you and a daughter with an attention deficit, because all she´s interested in are boys and makeup.

For the next ten years you lived comfortably off of life-support, draining his sorry-ass dry and while you live your self-centered life, your husband's girlfriend would leave him for someone more successful, he gets bald and a beer-pouch until he ultimately looks like the slimebag he is. How does that sound?"

 

“Just like I always imagined it to be.” Janie sighed almost dreamily. It sounded like a dream come true.

 

“Too bad.” Gandolf shrugged his shoulders. “Either way, I hope you found your match under those four. The other ones were insanely… bland. Well, the lion didn´t think so but still. No matter how insane, I´m sure their body fat percentage is just as low as the number of premature ejaculations in life.” He took a long look at Boomer. “Maybe not him… looks as if he´d shot like a rocket after a little hanky-panky in the backseat.

Sooo… which one of the four do you want?”

Turning around, Gandolf stared at her expectantly.

 

“Three…” Janie stuttered. “There are just three left. Kyle went home just last morning.”

 

“Oh right.” He scrunched up his face before rolling his eyes. “Home? Pfft! Transported himself into the Italy of the 17th century that bullock, naked as the day he was born. Had to get him back from there.” Nodding his head as a wide-eyed Janie, he continued.

“ _Kyle_ was trapped in an atelier with no way of getting out _without_ being burned at a stake. Indecent exposure plus strange language… they would have totally branded him as a witch. Luckily the guy owning the house understood a bit of mechanics, he was alright. Even made us a tea.

But I think we left quite the expression on him.” Turning his stick in hand, Gandolf sighed.

“Now somewhere in this world, a painting of an old, bearded man in a cloak and a naked idiot dramatically stretching his hand in the air are branded onto a ceiling. Thanks very much for that.”

 

"I´m sorry?" Jamie spoke hesitantly, just willing him to stop speaking in riddles. All that was not comprehensible for her poor brain.

“It´s alright, dear.” Gandolf fixed her with a long stare, her state of mind obvious to him. He decided to have mercy on her. “I´m going to take them with me now. Well, two of them at least. The one your heart solely most desires. I hope it chose wisely.”

 

Janie wanted to ask him what he meant by that but before she could even move a finger, a darkness slowly settled over her and she could feel her consciousness slipping away. She could just hope it wouldn´t be Boomer.

Even a life in an asylum sounded better than being forced to live with a maniac like him.

* * *

 

Janie awoke to the smell of breakfast wafting up into her little bedroom. A small smile on her lips, she got out of bed, slipped into her dressing gown and the fluffy slippers before making her way downstairs into the kitchen. There he was, her man, making scrambled eggs without his shirt on, a sight she could very well get used to.

Walking up to him, she slung her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on her back. Turning his head, she could just barely see his lips pulling up into a lazy smile while he flipped around the eggs without missing a beat

“Smells great.” Janie muttered, rubbing her face on him before pressing a kiss to his bare skin.

 

“I know.” All she got in return was a cocky grin. “Sit down, I’ll bring you your coffee.”

 

"Alright." Only half following his orders, she perched herself up on the kitchen counter, a sly smile on her lips. Just until he bent forward and bit her bottom lip in warning.

 

“Careful kitten.”

 

“Raaawr.” Pretending to extract her claws, Janie only earned herself a heated glare, that was warning and promise at once. With one sweep, he grabbed her hip and pulled her from the counter, ignoring her loud squeal. Instead of taking her up into the bedroom again, like yesterday night, he set her down onto the bench much to her chagrin.

But she wasn´t grouchy for long, the food he placed in front of her simply too delicious to pout over.

Shoveling eggs in her mouth while simultaneously trying to look sexy, Janie thought about what her life had become in just a few short weeks. What difficulties she had to face with the four of them and how she came to find the one she had desperately wishing for. Not one that would cheat on her as soon as she got her first wrinkle but someone she could spend the rest of her life with, even when she was old and fat.

Someone that wouldn´t leave her even when she was on her period and cranky, or bloated and pregnant. Not a hanger-on in a stage of her life but someone to walk along the whole way, no matter how far it would be.

 

Yes, Janie wished upon a star. She wished for a man she thought should be the one but instead, she got a maniac. A glitch of the universe, maybe it was fate. She was starting to feel it, a certainty deep inside her chest that she hoped to be able to tell about when she was old, a grandmother.

He was the love of her life.

Her leader.


End file.
